


Tar Eyes

by sofiathefool



Series: Unfinished/Discontinued works [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark fic, I Don't Even Know, One-Shot, deanmon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5855347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofiathefool/pseuds/sofiathefool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently this is dark!fic with Deanmon. </p>
<p>I included my notes on how I wanted to finish this one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tar Eyes

Black.

That’s all he knew nowadays.

His soul was tar, his hair turned ebony, his actions no longer righteous but villainous… What really seemed to get to people was his eyes: the once forest green irises now devoid of its trademark glisten. They were cold, dry, occasionally flashing black in order to remind people, but mostly himself, what he truly was: a Demon.

Yes, Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man, was now a demon.

The one who was rescued from Hell by an Angel, the same angel that fell for him, both literally and metaphorically, and gave away so much of himself that it made Dean’s head spin (at least Human Dean, anyway), gave in to temptation and let himself be engulfed in darkness and wickedness…

A vain sacrifice, a vain fall…

The Man Castiel once saved and put together was broken beyond repair, his once pure soul now twisted and deformed, its once bright light turned to smoke, as if the fire in him had gone out.

Dean Winchester knew all of this, and it not bother him in the least. He knew Sam would be hurting, he knew Castiel would be hurting, but the only thoughts he deigned to give that knowledge were about how he could make the pain worse.

But, at the moment, he could not let himself dwell in those plans, for he is about to be crowned. Well, not crowned as in he’d organize a banquet and have someone put the ornament on his head and proclaim him King. Nope. He would overthrow Crowley. He would claim Hell as his.

He didn’t need an Army, he didn’t need supporters. He only needed the Mark and the First Blade. He’d kill Crowley and anyone against the change in regime. Demons would know true fear again and they would bow down to Dean, obey him for all eternity, and Dean would love every second of it.

 

Another bottle of whisky was thrown into the garbage, and, sighing to himself, Sam sat at the library of the bunker, searching relentlessly for information on the Mark of Cain amongst the Men Of Letters’ records.

He could predict the outcome, but he just needed to keep pushing, keep investigating, keep searching…

After his death, Sam had laid Dean on the latter’s bed, so it could rest until it was time for the “Hunter’s Funeral”. Sam only left for a couple of hours so he could take a breather, drink a bit, mourn, but when he came back, Dean was gone.

No body and no sign of it ever being there. Sam momentarily thought if he had gone insane, but a little, almost imperceptible, drop of blood marking Dean’s pillow assured him that he indeed wasn’t crazier than usual.

He tried to pray to Cas, but remembered he would most likely be weak, which meant he wouldn’t be able to come even if he heard, so he picked up his phone and dialed Cas’s number.

He picked up after the fourth ring, saying with desperation in his tone, “Sam? Sam, where are you? What happened?”

Sam swallowed down the knot in his throat and tried to sound composed. He failed miserably, “C-Cas… I-It’s Dean. He… He died, Metatron killed him, I’m sure but…”

Cas let out a shaky breath, one of those when someone is almost at the point of crying, and muttered, “But what, Sam?”

Sam squared his shoulders and replied, “His body is gone, Cas…”

A tear rolled down his cheek and onto his plaid shirt.

A day later, Castiel arrived and in-between interrogating Sam, searching Dean’s room and pacing around the bunker, his mind bubbling with possible scenarios, he fell into an unexpected breakdown. He sat down at the edge of Dean’s bed, Sam leaned against the door frame, and Castiel broke into sobs.

There’s something Sam had never seen before. That list got shorter every day.

After a few minutes, Sam started to feel bad with just standing there, so, he padded towards Castiel, crouched in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Cas, buddy, I’m sorry… I really am.”

Castiel looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes and, in his almost intruding stare, Sam found utter pity but, by the Angel’s features, he could see that what he did had comforted him a bit.

“Sam Winchester, always so selfless… Your brother dies and you’re telling me you’re sorry. I should be telling you that…”

The taller man gulped and looked down, tears burning behind his eyes again.

“Sam,” the man looked up, “I am sorry.”

Castiel’s whisper was like a stab and simultaneously an embrace.

The Winchester forced himself to smile, and announced, “Cas, I too think he’s alive and we should search for him.”

“Sam, give it a day or two so you can pick yourself up and start the searching with energy. Your intent is honorable, but fatigue never helped anyone in anything.”

“What about you, Cas?”

“I’ll be fine, Sam. Don’t worry about me. I’ll go to Heaven and get as much information I can. I’ll have to use one of Metatron’s portals, but I’ll make it.”

Sam stared at Cas oddly, “Then, if you can do it, so can I. I have been dealing with Humanity on a personal level for way longer than you, after all.”

A frown crept onto Castiel’s face, and Sam could only guess what he was thinking. The Angel sighed, defeated, and got up, “I’ll be going. I won’t take too long, though.”

“Okay.”

Castiel was closing putting his on backpack when Sam called, “Hey, Cas, got a place to crash?”

The Angel looked down, “Not really, I was planning to stay at a motel.”

“If you need it and want to, you can stay here, Cas. And I mean for good. God knows it would be good to have company.”

Cas let a small smile spread on his face and said his goodbyes. Soon, the sound of a heavy door closing echoed through the bunker and Cas was gone.

He never came back.

It had been over three months since Dean and Cas both disappeared and his mind was set on finding them alive more than it ever was. The progress wasn’t big, but he’d gotten scraps of info here and there.

He was afraid that what he found was true, and, if it was, he was afraid he would have to definitely kill his brother. The problem is, his own brother has the only weapon than can kill him.

 

(CONTINUE WITH CAS BEING JAILED IN HELL AND DEAN BEING HIS TORTURER – DEAN IS KING OF HELL AND NEEDS TO CAS SO THEY CAN LEAD AN ARMY OF DEMONS TOGETHER – CAS IS IN HELL BECAUSE HE HAD MADE A DEAL SO HE COULD JUST GO TO HELL AND THE CROSSROADS DEMON HAPPENED TO BE DEAN – CAS WAS SHOCKED BUT LET THINGS HAPPEN ANYWAY – YES THERE IS SEX AND DEAN IS SHOCKINGLY DIRTY ABOUT IT – CAS BREAKS AND SAYS YES – CAS BECOMES A DEMON HIMSELF – THEY ATTACK EARTH – SAM FIGHTS WITH HUNTERS – SAM DOESN’T MAKE IT – THE WORLD BECOMES A DARK PLACE)


End file.
